The Winter's Promise
by Witty Teacup
Summary: Alfred promised he'd spend Christmas with Arthur, but on the night of his promise, he doesn't show up. What is poor Arthur to do?  -UsUk-


_**I ish in the Christmas mood ever since I heard those Christmas songs I hear every year. So be expecting like, a bazillion different themed Christmas stories after this one. There will probably be like, seven. You have been warned. **_

**_Title: The Winter's Promise_**

**_Author: IchigoMelon() KeyBladerr (DA) _**

**_Paring(s): UsUk _**

**_Rating: K+ _**

**_Summary: Alfred promised he'd spend Christmas with Arthur, but on the night of his word, he doesn't show up. What is poor Arthur to do?  
*~~*~~*_**

It was Christmas Eve, and all was silent. It seemed even the house itself was quiet. Yet, even amidst the engulfing silence, there was a sudden sound, the shifting of one, who really should be asleep. His messy blond hair was as messy as it ever had been, his vibrant green eyes drooping with sleepiness and worry. He stared up at the ceiling, and then glanced at the snow that was steadily falling outside through his window. The loneliness of being trapped inside that one room was really getting to him. Where was he? He'd promised to be here, so why wasn't he here?

_"Arthur, I'll promise I'll be with your for Christmas! Really! I wouldn't miss it for the world!" _

Those empty words replayed in the man's mind over and over again. Wouldn't miss it for the world eh? Lies, all lies. Arthur fought back the slowly forming tears. No, he wouldn't cry. Not for himself, not for Alfred. He should have known that this would happen, this relationship. Rolling over on his other side, he shut his eyes once more, in vain attempt to sleep.

Hours passed, and still, no one came. The agony of not knowing, the pain of being lied to, and the sorrow of his solitude began eating away at him. Just where was that insolent git? Unable to stand it any longer, Arthur swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. A sudden chill hit him and he considered getting back into bed where it was still warm. Though, he pushed the idea from his mind. The Englishmen checked the time. 11:00 it read. Sighing heavily, he glanced over at his phone. Should he call him? Would he even answer…? Inhaling, he snatched his phone from the nightstand and dialed the number. Ring once…twice…three times…four…and then…!

_Hey! You've reached the phone of Alfred F. Jones! Sorry I can't come to the phone right now, but leave your name and number and I'll get back to you soon! –Beep-_

_Alfred? This is Arthur. Where are you? Please…please call me back soon…_

Arthur's heart sank as he said those words. Had something happened? Was he in the hospital? Was he…with someone else…? That certainly seemed like a good explanation to why he wasn't answering his phone, with the added fact of him forgetting his promise. Should he just give up hope? What if he never came home? Then what would happen? Slowly making up his mind, he pulled out his coat from the closet. Buttoning it up, he pulled on his shoes and walked towards the front door. He was going to wait until he came home. Glancing at the clock once more, he opened the door into the chill air with the patting snow quickly showering him in even more cold.

Arthur waited, and waited, and waited, the minutes passing as fast as years did. It was 11:20 now, twenty minutes he'd been standing out there, forty minutes until his promise was broken. Midnight was his deadline. He didn't notice that tears were falling from his eyes until one hit his hand. It was becoming increasingly cold out there, and his lack of sleep was finally catching up to him. No! He had to stay awake! So he could give Alfred a good scolding about…worrying him so much. Arthur sat on the stairs in front of his house, but he leaned against the railing. A few moments of relaxation wouldn't hurt right? Letting his eyelids fall, he drifted off into a dreamful sleep of waking up to see his lover…  
*~~*~~*

He was yet again forgetting something. Alfred knew it. As he sat there, in that bar, drinking for whatever reason, something straying in the back of his mind told him something really important needed getting done. It was only for a few minutes, he'd told himself that when Ivan, his strange Russian friend, offered him a drink or two as a friendly toast for the festive holiday. Only for a few minutes…because he knew he had to get home. But the reason why, is, long gone in his mind. Tossing back another drink, he hiccupped. His companion, however, still seemed perfectly fine.

"You look a bit tipsy da?"

Alfred glared, but said nothing. He was most certainly not drunk! He could still think clearly! Two plus two equaled five and…. wait…no…okay... maybe he was a bit drunk. But only a little! He could still grasp the situation! The bartender only seemed to be steadily growing more annoyed.

"Hey…w-what are you looking at?"

"You and your…um…_friend _need to leave soon. I've got to be somewhere…"

Alfred paused. What was today again? Twenty-third…no, twenty-fourth! That was it! The twenty-fourth was…Christmas Eve. Ah yes…that time of year. The time with snow, trees, carols, candy, presents, and…spending time with the ones you love.

"Hey? Buddy listen, you need to leave. I got to close up for tonight."

The American didn't respond, rather, he started to think.

"Spending time with a loved one…"

Ivan looked at him.

"Did you say something comrade?"

"December twenty-fourth…loved one…Arthur…"

Then, it hit him. _Arthur. _That promise! _I'll be with you for Christmas…_

"Shit! What time is it now?"

"11:25, something the matter?"

Alfred mentally cursed himself. How could he forget? What was Arthur doing? Was he alone and cold? Sleeping soundly? Crying? He quickly grabbed his phone to find the one thing he didn't want. _One missed call. _There was a voice mail…he opened it immediately.

Alfred? This is Arthur. Where are you? Please…please call me back soon

The message was so short, yet, had so much hurt placed inside of it. That desperateness that he'd tried to hide was still detectable by far. It was time to go home. Standing from his chair, he raced out the door, ignoring Ivan's wondering calls. He got into his car and drove off in a rush. _Please let him be okay…_

After about ten minutes, he arrived on the street where Arthur lived. The snow had stopped by now, and he pulled into his driveway. What he witnessed is not what he'd expected.

Arthur was sitting there, on the stairs, looking quite frankly, lifeless. In a panic, he bolted out of the car and was almost instantly at his side. After a moment, he relaxed a bit. He was still breathing for one thing. From what he could tell, he'd been out here for a while. The Englishmen had the white ice all over him. Alfred dusted some of it off of him, but there was no point. The poor thing, he must have waited for him all night. Alfred's gaze fell to the door, which was still open. Sighing, he carefully picked Arthur up, as if he would break if he held him the wrong way. The American walked inside and laid him down on the couch. The shorter shivered. He had to have been cold. Alfred went to retrieve a blanket when a voice interrupted.

"W…where have…you been…?"

It was a sleepy voice, and hardly understandable. The blue-eyed man looked back to see Arthur staring at him, his eyes half open.

"Just, go back to sleep…"

"But if I go back to sleep…you'll be gone again…I don't want you to leave me…"

His voice was soft, but seemingly dripping loneliness. It made Alfred's heart clench.

"Arthur…I'm sorry…"

The other said nothing, but was still looking at him. He turned his back to him and sighed. What was he going to say to him? He'd already said he was sorry, but how was he supposed to tell him where he was? Instead, he walked off to obtain a blanket. Coming back with it in hand, it wasn't at all comforting when the young man was still looking at him when he'd returned. Even so, Alfred unfolded the material and draped it over him.

"Where were you…? I was worried…"

"I know…"

There was yet another pause. The silence was engulfing the room, suffocating both Alfred and Arthur. The clock was the only noise, _tick…tick…tick…_it sounded.

"Listen…I really did mean to be here…I just, lost track of time…"

"You couldn't have called?"

Those words pierced right through him. He _could _have called him couldn't he? Arthur sighed, that sigh that literally said, "I'm really hurt, but I won't say anything"

"I'm here now though…!"

He feigned happiness, much to the Englishmen's displeasure.

"A simple call, Alfred, even a text! You couldn't even spare me the trouble?"

Arthur was sitting up now.

"You've got it all wrong! I just…Ivan…"

The minute that named slipped from his lips, he knew he was in serious trouble.

"Ivan? Ivan? That…that…Russian…"

"Yeah…"

That look of betrayal on Arthur's face made his stomach churn. Oh why?

"If…you were with _him_…then why are you here? Shouldn't you be with _him_?"

The other said him in a not so nice way.

"Arthur, please. You know I love you…"

"How do you expect me to believe you when you were out with another bloody man on the day of your _promise?_"

"It's not like that! It's just…it was just…a friendly toast for the holiday!"

"_Just _a friendly toast? Really? You should know better…"

"Arthur, really. I don't like him…"

"I don't know if I can even trust you anymore! This…this isn't the first time…"

Alfred bit his lower lip. No, this wasn't. He'd gone out with lots of other people, but come on, Arthur should know better about Ivan of all people. How was he going to get it through his head?

"Iggy…I know that it's hard for you to believe me, and I don't expect you not to be mad, but-"

He was cut off.

"Don't call me that ridiculous nickname! I don't want to hear it…"

The Englishmen's voice sounded strained, as if trying to hold back tears. Ah, but to no avail. They began to pour anyway; slowly at first, but came down faster as the minutes passed. The only thing the American could do was stand and watch, thinking of some way to ease the tears falling from his beloved's face. Glancing all over the room, his eyes fell onto the clock. It read 11:50. Ten minutes. Ten minutes until Christmas officially began. Ten minutes until he really did break his promise. Sure he was here, but not in a good way. Ten minutes to make everything right. It was now, or never. Alfred sat on the edge where Arthur was sitting and hugged him in a tight embrace, letting the other cry as long as he wished to do so.

"Shh…go ahead, cry it all out…"

Arthur tried to fight, to pull away from his grasp, but Alfred held him fast.

"Let…go of me! I don't want your bloody sympathy! Just leave!"

"I don't want to… Arthur…I love you…"

"No you don't! You love that bloody Russian!"

"Ivan doesn't even compare to how important you are to me! What can I do to make you see that…?"

Arthur fell silent. Words escaped his throat. Something really deep in his heart told him, told him that what Alfred was saying wasn't a lie. Trust? No, trust wasn't a factor in this matter. Comfort? No, he didn't feel content like he usually did when he hugged him. Love? Could that be it? Love always had ups and downs, and many flaws too. But you always had to forgive and forget. So, was that what his heart was telling him? To forgive Alfred and forget his possible other relationship? But how could he just let it all go? The last of his tears fell, and he found himself lost in thought.

_"I want to forgive him…" _Arthur thought to himself.

"You are the only one for me…"

The American whispered that in the other's ear, and by some means, the shorter blond knew he was telling the truth, the actual truth from his heart. It was that tone he was using. He'd been with Alfred through so much, and even though he'd been out with others, he'd shown no signs of affairs, so why shouldn't he forgive him today of all days? If anything, he should be even more forgiving. Arthur opened his mouth, and slowly, he formed the words he wanted to say.

"I know, Alfred, I'm…sorry…but it's just…I don't want to lose you…"

Alfred ceased his grip, only to take the hold of the other's shoulders.

"And you won't! You have nothing to be sorry for. I should have told you I was running late…"

"It's alright…I'm just happy you're here now…"

Arthur was pulled back into a hug. It felt nice, now that he could actually enjoy it. The Englishmen began to speak again, but was quickly shut out by the clock. It rang a melodious tune, signaling the next hour. It was now midnight. The American recoiled his grasp, and took his hands instead. He smiled warmly.

"Merry Christmas Arthur…"

It took a few moments, but a response came. Arthur smiled too, a pleasant, genuine smile you don't commonly see on him.

"Merry Christmas to you too, Alfred."


End file.
